Dead and Gone

the hospital,” I said.
    “Good news.”
    As I tied the strings around my waist, I thought Antoine was about to say something else, but if he was, he changed his mind. He crossed the hall to knock on the kitchen door, and D’Eriq opened it from the inside and let him in. People had wandered into the kitchen by mistake too often, and the door was kept locked all the time. There was another door from the kitchen that led directly out back, and the Dumpster was right outside.
    I walked past Sam’s office without looking in. He didn’t want to talk to me; okay, I wouldn’t talk to him. I realized I was being childish.
    The FBI agents were still in Bon Temps, which shouldn’t have surprised me. Tonight, they came into the bar. Weiss and Lattesta were sitting opposite each another in a booth, a pitcher of beer and a basket of French-fried pickles between them, and they were talking intently. And at a table close to them, looking regal and beautiful and remote, was my great-grandfather Niall Brigant.
    This day was going to win a prize for most peculiar. I blew out a puff of air and went to wait on my great-grandfather first. He stood as I approached. His pale straight hair was tied back at the nape of his neck. He was wearing a black suit and a white shirt, as he always did. Tonight, instead of the solid black tie he usually wore, he had on a tie I’d given him for Christmas. It was red, gold, and black striped, and he looked spectacular. Everything about him gleamed and shone. The shirt wasn’t simply white—it was snowy and starched; and his coat wasn’t just black—it was spotlessly inky. His shoes showed not a speck of dust, and the myriad of fine, fine wrinkles in his handsome face only set off its perfection and his brilliant green eyes. His age enhanced rather than diminished his looks. It almost hurt to look at him. Niall put his arms around me and kissed my cheek.
    “Blood of my blood,” he said, and I smiled into his chest. He was so dramatic. And he had such a hard time looking human. I’d had one glimpse of him in his true form, and it had been nearly blinding. Since no one else in the bar was gasping at the sight of him, I knew they weren’t seeing him the same way I did.
    “Niall,” I said. “I’m so happy to see you.” I always felt pleased and flattered when he visited. Being Niall’s great-granddaughter was like being kin to a rock star; he lived a life I couldn’t imagine, went places I would never go, and had power I couldn’t fathom. But every now and then he spent time with me, and that time was always like Christmas.
    He said very quietly, “These people opposite me, they do nothing but talk of you.”
    “Do you know what the FBI is?” Niall’s fund of knowledge was incredible, since he was so old he’d stopped counting at a thousand and sometimes missed accurate dates by more than a century, but I didn’t know how specific his information about the modern day might be.
    “Yes,” he said. “FBI. A government agency that collects data about law breakers and terrorists inside the United States.”
    I nodded.
    “But you’re such a good person. You’re not a killer or terrorist,” Niall said, though he didn’t sound as if he believed my innocence would protect me.
    “Thank you,” I said. “But I don’t think they want to arrest me. I suspect they want to find out how I get results with my little mental condition, and if they decide I’m not nuts, they probably want me to work for them. That’s why they came to Bon Temps . . . but they got sidetracked.” And that brought me to the painful subject. “Do you know what happened to Crystal?”
    But some other customers called me then, and it was a while before I got back to Niall, who was waiting patiently. He somehow made the scarred chair look like a throne. He picked the conversation up right where we’d left off.
    “Yes, I know what happened to her.” His face didn’t seem to change, but I felt the chill rolling off of him. If I’d had anything to do with Crystal’s death, I would have felt very afraid.
    “How come you care?” I asked. He’d never paid any attention to Jason; in fact, Niall seemed to dislike my brother.
    Niall said, “I’m always interested in finding out why someone connected to me has died.” Niall had sounded totally impersonal when he spoke of Crystal’s death, but if he was interested, maybe he would help. You’d think he’d want to clear Jason, since Jason was his